poetry

Faster Than My Heart. {poetry}

 

I grew up on Jewish mysticism, ancient Kabbalistic teachings that explore the anatomy of the soul and its dynamic relationship with the body, world, and Creator. Kabbalah explains that every soul is breathed into a human body — its temple — for a purpose: to heal what is broken in oneself, in those who cross our life path, and in the world at large.

I wrote this poem on one of those days when my body and soul just weren’t in tandem. It is painful to sense the soul moving faster than the body, it truly hurts. See, my soul has dreams that are not barred by reality; indeed, the soul is made of Infinity. But my body hits the pavement and reminds me that this world has edges and corners, that the body has a limited pace… and that, perhaps, our infinite souls will forever move faster than our finite hearts.

In this spoken word poem, I invite you to join me on a spiritual journey, as I battle and find meaning in the bittersweet paradox that humanity is made of.

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You ask me why I walk so fast

I laugh and tell you that I am five years old

And my father is speed-walking to the synagogue

If I don’t keep up, I will lose him

But deep down I know

That long before I was five

Long before I was born

My soul was destined to beat faster than my heart

They said, go down and make miracles

Make this world a better place

Don’t waste what we gave you

Don’t squander your talent

And I don’t know about you

But any magic show I’ve ever seen

Happened fast, faster than my eyes could believe

And I think, I’m here to make magic, create change

Turn exile on its head, free the Infinite from its chains

And how fast, how fast can I do that

Here, stuck in a body

Held back for every forward leap

Muzzled when I need to speak

Stopped by a clock, or a hand, or a law, or another voice

By ethics, or egos, or someone else’s choice

Stopped by my unrelenting will to make this life beautiful

Your will is in your way, she told me

They all told me, they keep telling me

You want things so much

You reach out so strong

That they slip through your fingers

Like a forgotten song

Because miracles are not made in pressure-filled moments

Miracles are sewn, slowly, from fragments

Over lifetimes

Maybe I am the miracle

Still standing, still here

After so many times I should have never come up again for air

A beautiful, breathing miracle

Still peeking our heads out from this cold winter earth

Still saying, we will, we want to give birth

Maybe we are the miracle

The sign of a Maker

Believing so much in life

We defy what should break her

Burning with desire

We burn out to leave a mark

Our souls forever beating

Faster than our hearts.

Video Credits: Ruchama Ehrenhalt

***

Sara Hecht is an Australian-born singer/songwriter, poet and storyteller, and lover of all things mystical, artistic and human. Passionate about interfaith chaplaincy and spiritual healing, Sara has performed for audiences as diverse as women in US State & Federal Correctional Institutions. To learn more, visit her website or follow her on Facebook.

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